


On the Eve of our Greatest Triumph

by charlestonIguess



Series: Marauders drabbles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Outing, Homophobia, M/M, Marauder's Era, One-Shot, just fear of homophobia, not really homophobia, sort of coming out story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlestonIguess/pseuds/charlestonIguess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius get caught. They've never been any good at dealing with fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Eve of our Greatest Triumph

**October 1977**

 

“He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t.” Remus was trying to be understanding, he really was, but Sirius had been pacing up and down repeating the same phrase over and over for the last hour. Even as patient as he was, that was wearing on him.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Sirius demanded, face anguished as he spun around to look at Remus. “He looked – he looked-”

“Sirius,” Remus said softly. “Come here.” He held out his hand. The other boy stood still for a moment, his whole body drawn tight like a bowstring, before the tension seemed to collapse out of him and he relented, taking the offered hand and allowing himself to be drawn down beside Remus. Sirius collapsed against his side, burrowing against him to hide his head in his neck.

“Listen to me,” Remus murmured. “James couldn’t hate you. He’ll come ‘round, even if he does mind. And I’m not saying he does,” he adds quickly when Sirius stirs to protest. “He _doesn’t_. But if he _did_ , he’d come around. It’s James, Padfoot. He could never hate you.”

Sirius muttered something incomprehensible, but the disgruntled tone was fairly easy to parse.

“None of that,” Remus chided gently. “Give him time, Pads. I know it hurts, but-”

“But _what_?” Sirius exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Remus’ arm fell away from him almost violently and he frowned. “But I should just accept that he – that he looked – looked _disgusted_?” He clenches his jaw and looks at the floor, as if glaring at it would be a good substitute for James Potter’s head. “That I should just roll over and wait for him to ‘ _come around’_?”

Remus sighed heavily through his nose. “Sirius-”

“You saw him!” Sirius yelled, spinning around wildly. “You saw his face! Tell me that wasn’t disgust, Remus. Tell me he wasn’t horrified at the idea of his friends being two flaming poofters.”

Remus opened his mouth to say exactly that, but the words turned to ash in his mouth. Because, despite all he had said, James _had_ looked horrified when he walked in on them kissing earlier. It was never supposed to have happened like that. Actually, Remus was fairly certain that Sirius and he would never have announced it to their friends, not until they were old and grey and turned around to them and said, ‘You know we’ve been together all this time?’

It wasn’t that Remus was ashamed of Sirius. Honestly, who could be? Sirius was beautiful, all long, elegant limbs and black eyelashes brushing against soft skin under warm, grey eyes. He was brilliant – witty, clever, so full of life that it hurt to look at him sometimes. And he treasured their relationship. Every kiss Sirius gave him, every touch, every word of love and commitment – after everything, Sirius’ love was a shimmering jewel for him to keep close to his chest.

So it wasn’t shame that had Remus pulling away from Sirius every time there was another person in their vicinity. And it wasn’t like he was the only one doing it, either; Sirius pulled away, distanced himself, almost as often.

It wasn’t shame. It was fear.

Remus hated himself for admitting it. He felt like a failure of a Gryffindor, the worst liar in the world, when he admitted it was fear that kept him from telling anyone. Oh, not of the repercussions – homosexuality had been legalised ten years before, and while the social side of it was still horrific, it couldn’t actually get worse for a half-blood werewolf and a blood-traitor, not really. They were used to dealing with hatefulness and spite.

It was this exact situation that terrified Remus. The idea that, after everything they’d been through together, with Remus’ lycanthropy, with the Prank, with Sirius losing his family and James’ father’s death, with Peter’s brother’s murder, that this would be the thing that made his friends disgusted in him.

That despite overlooking his lycanthropy, his friends would see this as proof he was a monster.

Well. That was what he was so afraid of.

And it had happened, hadn’t it?

James had opened the door, laughing, and his laughter had drained out of him when he caught sight of Remus and Sirius scrambling away from each other, one half naked and covered in love-bites, the other aghast with kiss-reddened lips. And he had looked so – so – so shocked, so horrified, so –

Remus had no idea what James had looked.

Then Peter, quiet, calm Peter, had said, “James, c’mon, let’s give them a minute-”

And Sirius’ voice had been so desperate as he whispered, “Jamie-”

And James’ back had looked so final when he walked through the door.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered finally, his insides feeling as if they were sinking, “What are we going to do?”

Sirius looked up at him, his eyes wide and lost, and said, “I don’t know.”


End file.
